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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251986">Reality</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99'>PhantomWarrior99</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:27:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the roles are reversed over something as trivial as love?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix | Isaac Gates &amp; Vanessa Kimball, kimball - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's an eloquence in the way she leans over the holomap. Fingers splayed against cool metal, frame poised in a determined stance that seeps a concentration Isaac has long since abandoned at the ungodly hour of four a.m.</p><p>They've been up all night, pouring over the map for strategic weaknesses in the Federal Army's defenses. Sam - no, <em>Locus</em> - has been more thorough than unusual and, at the moment, Isaac would like nothing more than to throttle him for it. Then again, hours in the same room with Vanessa Kimball grants him a rare view. The dim lighting casting over the General's exhausted frame, the subtle shadows that dance across her features beneath soft, chestnut locks. He can't remember when the late nights turned into something more than <em>work </em>or a necessary strategic meeting. He can't remember when he started paying more attention to the curve of her hips beneath the baggy sweatpants she wears to bed or the rise of her oversized hoodie when she straightens up to stretch stiffened, aching muscles.</p><p>He could watch her work for hours, but the heavy bags under her eyes remind him of the time and he sets down his coffee mug. "Kimball, it's late. You should get some rest."</p><p>"We're missing <em>something</em>," she leans forward once more, squinting at the map accusingly.</p><p>"Then that something is going to have to wait until morning," he stands, clasping his hands above his head and leans side to side, "It's late and all good Generals need to get some rest so they're not useless in four hours when they get up."</p><p>"I'm fine, just need some more--" she pauses when she tears her eyes away from the map to look into the empty coffee mug. Soft violet darts to the pot that sits empty on the far desk and then to Isaac's cup.</p><p>"Empty. Which means <em>bed.</em>" He reiterates, moving around the desk to shut off the holomap.</p><p>"Felix--"</p><p><em>"Bed</em>." There's a sternness to his voice as he meets her protesting gaze. He's very aware of how close she is, the few fleeting inches between their frames - though, if she notices, she doesn't show it. He often wonders if she's begun to notice the little things, or if he's fallen into a one-sided longing for his boss that will go no where for reasons beyond his split loyalties.</p><p>She stares up at him defiantly, brows furrowed in an expression that Isaac can only describe as something akin to adorable. "I outrank you."</p><p>"You hired me, there's a distinct difference between outranking and paying, sweetheart."</p><p>The term startles her, confusion consuming her features as she studies him, "What?"</p><p>It's too late to backpedal and Isaac doesn't think he'd want to at this point. He vaguely enjoys the flustered expression, but not enough to try his luck. So, he ignores her question, turning instead to move their mugs over to the other desk, "You hired me, and while that <em>technically </em>makes you my boss, I think of it more as a partnership. Which means, <em>you </em>need to go to bed so my <em>partner </em>is alert in the morning."</p><p>He can almost hear the sputtering in her mind, the idle thought that she'd misheard despite the shared knowledge that he had, in fact, slipped in a term of endearment - at least, one that didn't sound patronizing for once. She settles for a brief moment before returning a sharp, "Bold words from a man who hardly sleeps himself."</p><p>"You hired me to work, not sleep on the job," he props himself against the desk, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a lazy smile, "Get some rest, Vanessa. There will be time enough to beat the Federal Army in the morning."</p><p>He surprises them both with tenderness in his tone, the warmth in glistening brown as they stare back at the General.</p><p>If nothing else, it's enough to drain the fight from her frame as she offers a reluctant nod.</p><p>"Fine. I expect to see you back in here at 0830 tomorrow morning then."</p><p>"Yes, ma'am."</p><p>She lingers a moment longer before shuffling towards the door and down the hall as Isaac stares after her, arms folded haphazardly across his chest. His mind drifts to a myriad of scenarios that involve how all of this could turn out.</p><p>None of them end well.</p><p>And it's that, more than anything that reminds him to hold his tongue. He's almost glad Sam can't see him now: smitten yet stubborn.</p><p>And it's as if his partner knows as the communicator on his wrist flashes a brilliant crimson. He heaves a sigh, glancing towards the door before accepting the hail.</p><p>
  <em>You're late.</em>
</p><p>"Your fault."</p><p>
  <em>How is your inability to check in on time <strong>my </strong>fault?</em>
</p><p>"Defense schematics were too well done. We've been up all night looking at them," Isaac rubs at his eyes as if it will emphasize his point.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Yours </em>
  </strong>
  <em>was no less enjoyable.</em>
</p><p>He mimes Sam's response petulantly before casting a glance towards the door, "What do you want?"</p><p>
  <em>Delivery arrives in the morning. Said to carry a variety of Freelancer tech.</em>
</p><p>"Good, we could use a re-supply," he stares accusingly at the empty pot of coffee, deliberately ignoring the second part.</p><p><em>There's something else.</em> </p><p>"What?"</p><p>
  <em>There will be Freelancers on the transport. So, if anyone's going to survive--</em>
</p><p>"It'll be them," his eyes dart back to check the door briefly, "Alright. If there's nothing else, my bed beckons."</p><p>
  <em>Locus out.</em>
</p><p>"So dull with his exits. It's never: be careful or good luck. Just <em>Locus out</em>. You have no flair for the dramatics," he picks up the deactivated commlink and makes his way down the hall and to his bedroom for a few hours before duty.</p><p>Sometimes he wishes he'd never taken this job, especially now that he's gotten himself attached.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>--------------------------</p><p>The coffee is already brewing as Isaac shuffles into the briefing room, his helmet tucked under his arm.</p><p>"You're late." Kimball remarks without sparing him a glance. </p><p>"You said 0830. It's 0831." He returns, setting his helmet on the table and stifles a yawn.</p><p>"You're still late."</p><p>He snorts lightly, allowing soft hazel to drift over her frame as they had only a few short hours earlier. This time - this time there's no subtle curve of her hips, no fleeting glimpse of her torso. No, this time she's in battle mode, armor secured in place and her helmet resting a few short inches from his own.</p><p>He almost finds her more attractive when she's geared up to kick ass - and that isn't a particularly wise line of thought.</p><p>He shakes his head to dismiss the image as he makes his way over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup of the watery sludge, "Did you sleep?"</p><p>"The Federal Army moved up. There was--"</p><p>
  <em>"Vanessa."</em>
</p><p>He knows she can hear the chiding edge in his voice, tensing under the weight of his gaze as he props himself against the table.</p><p>But she doesn't look up, likely feigning a falsehood to get him off her back, "Yes. I did."</p><p>It's his turn to tense. It's a curt response. Tight-lipped and he doesn't like the sinking sensation that settles in the pit of his stomach - or perhaps it's just the God-awful coffee.</p><p>In either case, he leaves it alone as he straightens up, making his way to her side to investigate the map she's so enthralled in. "You were saying...about the Feds?"</p><p>She nods, handing him a data pad with a file pulled up on the screen. "Reconnaissance report came in this morning. The Feds have strengthened their forces along the eastern border. So, either theyve got something special planned--"</p><p>"Or they've got a visitor." Hazel skims over the information quickly.</p><p>"Exactly."</p><p>He looks over to see the twinge of excitement glinting in violet. He loves to see that subtle spark, that flare of something violent and reckless and hellbent all compressed into a singular look. It takes him a moment, aware that she's staring at him expectantly before he nods, "Doyle? Locus?"</p><p>"Could be both," she looks back down at the holomap, "Think about it, Felix. If we can kill one or both of them, this war will be over."</p><p>"I'm never one to complain about a swift victory," he returns, forcing the apprehension from his voice. If she tries to kill Locus, he'll have no choice but to kill her to preserve their mission - that's the last thing he wants to do.</p><p>"Felix?"</p><p>Her voice drags him out of his thoughts as hazel flickers upwards to meet her confused gaze.</p><p>"You alright?"</p><p>"Fine," he sets the 'pad down, forcing a cocky grin into place. "Just thinking about that sweet payday...and, y'know, the sweeping victory." He prays he sounds more convincing than he feels, that she can't detect the sickening weight settling on the pit of his stomach, the unsteady waiver of his frame as he leans against the table. He can't lose her, the thought itself--</p><p>"Right, I'm sure that's it."</p><p>"Skepticism, Kimball? Really? Thought you knew me better than that."</p><p>
  <em>I wish you knew me at all.</em>
</p><p>He knows she's gauging the believability of his features, but his poker face never fails...when it matters.</p><p>Finally, she relents and shifts soft violet back to the holomap, "Just stay focused while we're out there. I don't want to lose any more men, Felix."</p><p>"Yes, ma'am."</p><p>-----------------------</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey folks!<br/>Hope y'all enjoyed this first chapter of the series! Chapter 2 is in the works!<br/>Please leave a kudo/comment to let me know your thoughts!<br/>~Phantom</p></blockquote></div></div>
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